


i can't live without your love (and only you can save me)

by ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Forbidden Love, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, I'm Sorry, Non-Canonical Character Death, Tropes, Unrequited Love, he will never be satisfied, poor john laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime/pseuds/ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime
Summary: On August 27, 1782, John Laurens died of a broken heart.(Or, the true cause of John's death is the flowers)
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	i can't live without your love (and only you can save me)

**Author's Note:**

> "Cold in my professions, warm in ⟨my⟩ friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it m⟨ight⟩ be in my power, by action rather than words, ⟨to⟩ convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ’till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You sh⟨ould⟩ not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste⟨al⟩ into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into ⟨me⟩."
> 
> -Alexander Hamilton in a letter to John Laurens, April 1779 (prior to meeting Elizabeth Schuyler)

John stumbled through the woods, leaving a trail of blood-stained petals behind him. He collapsed on the floor, retching flowers and blood at an alarming rate. From the day he coughed his first petal, he was struck by how painfully ironic the entire ordeal was. People died to save the ones they love and yet couldn't save themselves from love in the first place. Love was called many things; beautiful, miraculous, everlasting. Nobody had ever bothered to mention it could be fatal.

* * *

_Let friendship between us be more than a name._

Friendship. John couldn't think of a more bittersweet word.

_You strike me as a man who will never be satisfied._

Those were the first words that came out of Angelica Schuyler's mouth upon seeing him. She'd caught him gazing upon Alexander, making a toast to his new wife.

"How do you know?" he'd asked her. She'd let out a short laugh, though there was no joy in it.

"It seems as though we have fallen for the same man, Mr. Laurens. Sometimes one must make sacrifices, and put the happiness of those they love above their own. We will never be satisfied, you and me both. Now we must learn to live with it."

* * *

"Alexander," he gasped, falling to his knees.

Memories swam before his eyes.

The first time he met Alexander, when four soon-to-be-friends had laughed and joked over drinks at a bar, making toasts to friendship and freedom, and bragged of all they hoped to achieve in the coming years. They had all been so hopeful, so full of energy and life. "Laurens, I like you a lot!" Alexander had proclaimed, raising a glass in his direction. John had laughed. At the time, it seemed nothing more than a jest between friends. Now, he looked back and wondered if there had been anything behind that carefree grin, those eager eyes.

Being introduced to Elizabeth Hamilton, formerly Schuyler, by Alexander. He'd hesitated upon receiving the invitation, wondering if he could push his feelings aside for the sake of his friend's happiness on his wedding night. Upon meeting Eliza, all doubts flew from his mind. She was the perfect woman for Alexander- calm yet influential, kind but firm, radiating beauty and gentleness. She served as a reminder of everything John couldn't be, and yet as much as he wanted to hate her, he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't blame Alexander; had he been in his position (and had he been interested in women), he no doubt would have fallen head over heels for her as well.

Meeting baby Philip, staring down at his tiny button-nose and little mouth and mop of messy brown hair. Alexander had swelled with pride as he handed his son to his best friend, introducing him in a formal manner, as though he was a duke or a nobleman. "This is Philip Hamilton, son of Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton." The only time John had remembered seeing Alexander that happy was on his wedding night. The thought made him cough up an entire flower, causing him to splutter and choke in pain. He collapsed on the floor, vomiting blood and petals all over the grass.

John suddenly remembered something he'd once heard Aaron Burr muttering to himself.

_Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the_ _saints, it just takes and takes._

He'd scoffed at the time. Burr could freely admit his love to Theodosia, could, in Alexander's words, "go get her" whenever he wished. Now, he realized Burr had known more about the dangers of love than he let on. Love was merciless- it made no difference whether the person you loved was a man or a woman, a friend or an enemy, one who loved you the way you loved them or one who never would.

With each memory, with each pang in his stomach and heart and lungs, he could feel his life draining away, one flower at a time.

"Alexander," John whispered. As the name fell from his lips, he exhaled, eyes closing for the final time. With his last breath, a petal fluttered to the ground.

Afterwards, they would find his lifeless body and wonder where the blood had come from, being unable to find a wound, and who had left the flowers, which were interpreted as a symbol of respect for the soldier Washington had spoken so highly of. Only one person ever knew the true cause of his friend's death, and never forgave himself for it, though he paid dearly in the end.

* * *

On August 27, 1782, John Laurens died of a broken heart. 

* * *

Years later, seeds that had fallen from a hopeless lover's lips sprouted and bloomed into flowers, the only remainders of a man's love for one he could never have.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was recently introduced to this trope and fell in love with it- I knew I had to write this, as much as it broke my heart (and for the sake of the AU, let's pretend John was never wounded in action, and that he attended Alex's wedding)
> 
> I'm also considering writing a Hamburr Hanahaki disease fic set in modern era sometime, let me know if you would be interested in reading it if I did!


End file.
